Fantasy Lover

Julian and Grace helped Selena close down her stand and get to her Jeep before they headed home through Friday evening traffic.



"You've been quiet," Grace said as she stopped for a red light.



She watched the way his gaze followed the path of the other cars on the road. He looked so lost, like someone caught between dreams and reality.



"I don't know what to say," he responded after a brief pause.



"Tell me how you feel."



"About what?"



Grace laughed. "You are definitely a man," she said. "You know, the guys give me the hardest time during my sessions. They come in, spend one hundred and twenty-five dollars an hour to basically say nothing. I'll never figure it out."



His gaze dropped to his lap and she saw the way he rubbed his general's ring idly with his thumb. "You said you were a sex therapist. What exactly is that?"



She started back into traffic. "You and I are sort of in the same business. I help people who have relationship troubles. Women who are afraid to be intimate with men, or women who love men a little too zealously."



"Nymphomaniacs?"



She nodded.



"I've known a few of those," he said with a sigh.



"I bet you have."



"And the men?" he asked.



"They're not so easy. Like I said, they don't talk as much. I have a few cases of men who have performance anxiety-"



"What's that?"



"Something I'm sure you'll never have," she said, thinking of the arrogant way he constantly pursued her.



Clearing her throat, she explained. "They're men who are afraid their partners will laugh at them while they're in bed."



"Oh."



"I also have a couple who are verbally abusive to their spouses and girlfriends. A couple who want to have their sex changed-"



"Can they do that?" Julian asked in a shocked tone.



"Oh, yeah," she said with a wave of her hand. "You'd be amazed what the doctors today are capable of."



She turned toward her house.



Julian was quiet for so long that she was about to show him the radio when all of a sudden he asked, "Why do you want to help these people?"



"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I guess it goes back to my childhood when I was very insecure. My parents loved me, but I didn't know how to relate to other kids. My father was a history professor, and my mother a housewife-"



"She married a house?"



Grace laughed. "No, she just stayed at home and did mom things. They never treated me like a child, really, and so when I got around other children I didn't know what to do. What to say. I would get so scared, I would tremble. Finally, my father started taking me to counseling and after a while, I got a lot better."



"Except around men."



"That's a whole 'nother story," she said with a sigh. "I was an awkward teenager and the guys in my school never came around unless they wanted to mock me."



"Mock you how?"



Grace shrugged nonchalantly. At least now, those old memories had ceased to bother her. She'd come to terms with it long ago. "Because I have no boobs. My ears stand out, and I have freckles all over me."



"Boobs?"



"Breasts."



She swore she could feel his hot, prolonged stare on her chest.



Glancing sideways, she was able to confirm it. In fact, he looked at her as if he had her shirt off and was in the midst of-



"You have very nice breasts."



"Thanks," she said awkwardly, and yet somehow the unorthodox compliment warmed her. "What about you?"



"I have no breasts."



He said it in such a serious deadpan tone that she burst out laughing. "That's not what I mean, and you know it. What were you like as a teenager?"



"I already told you."



She gave him a menacing glance. "Seriously."



"Seriously, I fought, ate, drank, had sex, and bathed. Usually in that order."



"We're still having this whole intimacy issue, aren't we?" she asked rhetorically.



Then, falling into her role as a counselor, she moved on to something that was hopefully a little easier for him to talk about. "Why don't you tell me how you felt the first time you went into battle."



"I felt nothing."



"You weren't scared?"



"Of what?"



"Of dying or being maimed?"



"No."



The sincerity of that single word baffled her. "How could you not be afraid?"



"You can't fear dying when you have no reason to live."



Haunted by his words, Grace pulled into her driveway.



Deciding it was best to leave off so serious a discussion for the time being, she left the car and opened the trunk. Julian gathered the bags before following her into the house.



They went upstairs and Grace reached into her top dresser drawer to get her comfortable jeans. Then, she made room for his clothes in her chest of drawers.



"So," she said, grabbing the empty bags and tossing them into the wicker trash can by her closet. "It's Friday night. What would you like to do? Quiet night in or would you like to go out on the town?"



His hungry gaze ran down the length of her body, making her hot instantaneously. "You know the answer to that."



"Okay, one vote for jumping the doctor's bones, and one vote not to jump the doctor's bones. Can I hear another option?"



"How about just a nice quiet evening at home, then?"



"Okay," she said, heading to her phone on the night-stand. "Let me check my messages, then we can start dinner."



Julian finished putting his clothes away while she called her answering service and talked to them.



He had just tucked away the last item when he heard an alarmed note in Grace's voice.



"Did he say what he needed?"



Julian turned to look at her. Her eyes were slightly dilated and she had a firm, tense grip on the phone.



"Why did you give him this number?" she asked angrily. "My patients are never to receive my home number. Do you have a supervisor I can talk to?"



Julian went to stand beside her. "Is something wrong?"



She held her hand up to tell him to be quiet as she listened to the other person.



"All right," she said after a long pause. "I'll just have to get my number changed again. Thanks." She turned the phone off and set it down. Worry knitted her brow.



"What happened?" he asked.



She let out an irritated breath as she rubbed at her neck. "The answering service hired this new girl who slipped up and gave out my home number to one of my patients who called in today."



She talked so fast, he could barely follow her.



"Well, he's not really one of my patients," she continued without pausing. "I would never have taken such a man on as a patient, but Luanne, Dr. Jenkins, isn't so picky. And she rushed out of town last week, on some personal emergency. So Beth and I had to divvy up her patients who had to have counseling while she's gone. Still, I didn't want this creepy guy, but Beth doesn't work on Fridays, and he has to have Wednesdays and Fridays because of his release program."



She looked up at him with panic in her light gray eyes. "I still didn't want him, but his case worker swore to me there wouldn't be any problems. He said the man wasn't a threat to anyone."



Julian's head ached from all the information she unloaded, and the words she used that didn't make sense to him. "Is that a problem?"



"Just a little scary," she said, her hand shaking. "He's a stalker who was released from the mental ward."



"Stalker from a mental ward? What is that?"



As she explained it to him, he actually gaped. "You let these people loose on your society?"



"Well, yes. The idea is to help them."



Julian was aghast. What kind of world was this that the men in it refused to protect their women and children from such? "Where I come from, we didn't let people like that near our families. And we damn sure didn't let them loose on our streets."



"Welcome to the twenty-first century," she said bitterly. "Here, we do things a little differently."



Julian shook his head as he thought about all the things in this time that were so alien to him. He just couldn't comprehend these people and the way they lived. "I really don't belong here," he said under his breath.



"Julian..."



He pulled away as she reached for him. "Grace, you know it's true. Let's say we break the curse; what good does it do me? What am I supposed to do here? I can't read your language. I can't drive your car, or work. There's so much I don't comprehend. I'm lost here."



Grace flinched at the underlying anguish he was trying so hard to conceal. "You're just overwhelmed by it all. But we'll take it in tiny steps. I can teach you to drive and read. As for work... I know there are things you can do."



"Such as?"



"I don't know. Other than be a soldier, what else did you do in Macedonia?"



"I was a commander, Grace. All I know how to do is lead an ancient army into battle. That's it."



She cupped her hands around his face, and gave him a hard stare. "Don't you dare give up on this. You said you weren't afraid in battle, then how can you be afraid of this?"



"I just am."



Something strange happened then as Grace realized he had let her inside him. Not very deep, but she could tell by his face that he had made himself vulnerable to her by admitting that. She knew in her heart that he wasn't the kind of man who often made such admissions. "I will help you."



The doubt in those blue eyes twisted her gut. "Why?"



"We're friends," she said gently as she brushed his cheek with her thumb. "Isn't that what you told Cupid?"



"And you heard his response. I don't have any friends."



"You do now."



He leaned down and kissed her forehead, then pulled her against him into a tight hug. The warm scent of sandalwood filled her head as she listened to his heart beating fiercely under her cheek while his tanned biceps flexed next to her face. His tender embrace went deeper than just a momentary physical gesture, it touched her profoundly.



"All right, Grace," he said quietly. "We'll try this. But just promise me that you won't let me hurt you."



She frowned up at him.



"I'm serious. Once I'm shackled, don't release me for any reason. Swear it."



"But-"



"Swear it!" he insisted sternly.



"All right. If you can't control yourself, I won't let you go. But I want you to make a promise to me."



He pulled back and looked at her skeptically, but left his soothing arms around her. "What?"



Grace braced her hands against the strength of his biceps. She felt chills spread over his arms the instant her palms made contact with his flesh. He glanced down at her hands with one of the tenderest expressions she'd ever seen.



"Promise me that you won't give up on being free," she said. "I want you to try to beat this curse."



He gave an odd half-smile. "Very well. I shall try."



"And you will succeed."



He laughed at that. "You have the optimism of a child."



She returned his smile. "Peter Pan all the way."



"Peter who?"



Reluctantly, she withdrew from his arms. Taking his hand, she led him toward the bedroom door. "Come with me, my Macedonian love-slave, and I will tell you of Peter Pan and his Lost Boys."



"So, this boy never grew up?" Julian asked as they made dinner.



Grace was actually amazed he hadn't complained when she asked him to make a salad. He seemed to like using knives on food.



Unwilling to investigate that little idiosyncrasy, she concentrated on her spaghetti sauce. "Nope. He went back to the island with Tinker Bell."



"Interesting."



Grace dipped a spoon into the sauce. Cupping her hand under it, she blew across the top of it, then took it over to Julian. "Tell me what you think."



He bent down and opened his mouth.



Grace fed it to him and watched the way he savored it. "It's delicious."



"Not too much salt?"



"Perfect."



She beamed.



"Here," Julian said, holding a piece of cubed cheese for her.



Grace opened her mouth for it, but he didn't give her the cheese. He took advantage of her open mouth to kiss the daylights out of her.



Goodness, but someone ought to be able to bronze a tongue that could move like his, or do something to preserve it. Such a treasure should never be lost.



And those lips...



Mmm, she didn't want to think about those delectable lips and what they were capable of.



He splayed his fingers against her lower back and pressed her against his hips where he bulged in his jeans. Mercy, the man was heavily endowed, and she trembled at the thought of having all his sexual powers unleashed on her.



Would she even be able to survive it?



She felt his body tense as his breathing changed. He was seriously getting into this and she was seriously beginning to fear that if she didn't stop it, neither one of them would be able to pull away.



As much as she hated to leave his hot embrace, she stepped back.



"Julian, behave."



His breathing ragged, she saw him fighting with himself as he dragged a hungry look over her body. "It would be a lot easier to behave if you didn't look so damn good."



His words shocked her so much that she actually laughed at them.



"I'm sorry," she said as she saw the irritated look on his face. "You have to remember that, unlike you, I'm not used to people saying things like that to me. The biggest compliment I've ever gotten from a guy was from Rick Glysdale when he came to pick me up for the prom. He took one look at me and said, 'Damn, you cleaned up better than I thought you would.' "



Julian scowled. "I worry about the men of your time, Grace. They all seem to be great fools."



Laughing again, she kissed him lightly on the cheek, then went to get their pasta off the stove before it overboiled.



As she dumped the noodles into the sieve, she remembered the bread. "Can you check the rolls?"



Julian moved to the oven and leaned over, gifting her with one luscious view of his rear. Grace bit her bottom lip as she forced herself not to go over there, and ran her hand across that tight, firm butt.



"They're about to burn."



"Oh, shoot! Can you pull them out?" she asked, trying not to spill the boiling water.



"Sure." Julian grabbed the dish towel from the counter, and started to pull them out. All of a sudden, he shouted an expletive that caught her attention.



Turning, she saw the cloth had caught fire.



"Over here!" she said, moving out of the way. "Drop it in the sink."



He did, but not before part of it caught her on the hand.



Grace hissed.



"Did I get you?" he asked.



"A little toasted."



Julian grimaced as he took her hand in his and examined the burn. "I'm sorry," he said an instant before he placed her fingertip in his mouth.



Stunned, she couldn't move as he ran his tongue around the sensitive flesh of her finger. In spite of the burning sensation, it felt good. Really, really good.



"You're not helping my burn," she whispered.



With her finger still in his mouth, he smiled wickedly, then reached behind his back to turn on the cold water. He twirled his tongue one last time around her finger before opening his mouth and moving her hand under the cool stream.



While he held her finger there with one hand, he reached to her potted plant in the windowsill and broke a piece off her aloe plant with the other.



"How do you know about aloe?" she asked.



"Its curative powers were known even before I was born," he said.



Chills swept up her spine and coiled around her stomach as he rubbed the gooey gel over her finger. "Better?"



She nodded.



His gaze warm, he stared longingly at her lips as if he could already taste them. "I think I'll let you handle the oven from now on," he said.



"Probably for the best."



She moved past him and took the bread out just before it was too cooked to eat.



Grace made them plates, then led Julian into the living room to eat on the floor by the sofa while they watched The Matrix.



"I love this movie," she said as it began.



Julian set his plate on the coffee table, then sat next to her. "Do you always eat on the floor?" he asked, before placing a piece of bread in his mouth.



Fascinated by the symphony of movement of his body, she watched the way his jaw flexed as he chewed.



Was there any part of his body not mouth-wateringly gorgeous? She was beginning to understand why his other summoners had treated him the way they had.



The idea of keeping him locked in a bedroom for a month was seriously starting to appeal to her.



And they did have those handcuffs...



"Well," she said, forcing her thoughts away from what all that glorious golden skin would look like if he were indeed spread out naked on her mattress. "I have the dining room table, but since it's just me most nights, I pretty much do a cup of soup on the couch."



He twirled his fork expertly in the bowl of his spoon until the noodles were wrapped around the tines. "You need someone to take care of you," he said before he bit into it.



Grace shrugged. "I have myself for that."



"It's not the same."



She frowned at him. There was an underlying note to his voice that told her he wasn't taking a shot at her being a woman. He was speaking from his heart and experience.



"I guess we all need someone to take care of us, don't we?" she whispered.



He looked back toward the TV, but not before she caught the flash of longing in his eyes.



Grace watched him watch the movie for several minutes. Even while distracted, he had the most impeccable table manners she'd ever seen.



She had spaghetti sauce flying everywhere while he never splashed one single drop. "Show me how you do that," she said.



He looked at her curiously. "Do what?"



"That whole spoon thing you're doing. It's making me crazy. I can never get my noodles to stick to the tines of my fork. They flop all around and make a giant mess."



"Well, we certainly can't have giant noodles flopping around making a mess, now can we?"



Grace laughed at his words, knowing he wasn't talking about the spaghetti. "Anyway, how do you do that?"



He took a drink of wine, then set it aside. "Here, it'll be easier for me to show you this way."



He squeezed himself in between her and the couch.



"Julian..." she said in warning.



"I'm just showing you what you wanted to know."



"Um-hum," she said doubtfully.



Still, she couldn't help but feel him all the way to her bones, to her very soul. The warmth of his chest invaded her back as he surrounded her with his marvelous arms.



He had his legs bent on each side of her. And as he leaned forward, she felt his erection against the back of her hip. For once it didn't shock her. Oddly enough, she was growing accustomed to it.



As his lithe, toned body moved around her, she felt his power, his strength. It left her breathless and unsure.



Unfamiliar feelings washed over her with an intensity she had never known before. What was it about Julian that made her feel so happy and safe?



If this was the curse, then it should be renamed, because there was nothing malevolent about the sensations spiraling through her.



"Okay," he breathed in her ear, sending electric waves through her. He picked her hands up in his and, together, they held her silverware.



Julian closed his eyes as he inhaled the sweet, pleasant floral scent of her hair. It took every ounce of his willpower to focus on the task and not on how badly he wanted to make love to her.



Her fingers slid provocatively between his, heightening his awareness of her warm, soft skin. A new kind of desperation seized him. One he couldn't name. He knew what he wanted from her, and it wasn't just her body.



But he dared not think those thoughts.



Dared not hope.



She was beyond his grasp. He knew it in his heart, and in his soul. And all the longing in the world would never change the one basic fact that he wasn't worthy of a woman like this.



He had never been worthy...



Opening his eyes, Julian showed her how to use the spoon as a bowl for the fork to tuck the noodles together.



"See," he whispered, bringing the fork to her lips. "It's simple."



She opened her mouth and he gently placed the noodles on her tongue. As they slid the fork slowly back out, between her lips, he felt as though he had been spread out on a torture rack.



His heart pounded in a wild, frenzied rhythm as his common sense told him to move away from her.



But he couldn't. He'd been so long without a companion. So long without a friend...



He couldn't let go right now. He didn't know how.



So, he continued to feed her.



Grace leaned back into the shelter of his arms. She dropped her hands from his and just let him take control. As she swallowed the next bite, she reached for the bread and fed a piece of it to Julian. He nipped her fingers with his teeth as she placed it in his mouth.



Smiling, she ran her hand down the line of his jaw as he chewed. Oh, the way that muscle flexed beneath her hand. She just loved the way his body moved, the way it rippled with every activity no matter how large or small.



A woman would never get tired of watching this man.



While she took a drink of wine, Julian snuck a bite of her spaghetti.



"Hey, now," she said teasingly. "That's mine."



His celestial blue eyes glowed as he smiled, then fed her another bite.



While she chewed, she gave him a drink of her wine.



Unfortunately, she misjudged her timing and pulled back too soon, spilling a bit down his chin and the front of his shirt. "I'm sorry!" she said, wiping his chin with her fingers. His whiskers scraped gently against her flesh. "Jeez, I stink at this."



He didn't seem to mind. Taking her hand in his, he sucked the wine from her fingertips.



Grace moaned low in her throat. A million ribbons of pleasure spread through her body as his tongue slid the entire length of her fingers while his teeth gently nipped her flesh.



One by one, he slowly cleaned them all. And when he was done, he tilted her chin up and captured her lips with his.



But this wasn't the fiercely demanding kiss she was used to from him. The one he used to seduce and devour her.



This one was gentle, quiet. Soft. His lips were feather-light and questing.



He pulled back. "Still hungry?" he asked.



"Yes," she breathed, not really talking about the food, but more about the aching of her body for his.



He fed her another bite of spaghetti.



And the next time she sought to quench his thirst, he covered her hand with his while his eyes teased her.



They stayed like that, gently feeding each other and just reveling in one another's company, until the end of the movie, when Julian became suddenly interested in the final fight scenes.



"Your guns are fascinating," he said as he watched it.



"I guess a general would think so."



He glanced at her, then back to the movie. "What do you like most about this play?"



"The allegories."



He nodded. "I see a lot of Plato in it."



"You know of Plato?" she asked in surprise.



"I studied him when I was young."



"Really?"



He looked less than amused. "They did manage to teach us a few things while they were knocking us around."



"You're being flippant."



"Somewhat."



After the movie ended, Julian helped her clean up.



While she was loading the dishwasher, the phone rang. "I'll be back in a sec," she said, dashing to the living room to pick up the phone.



"Grace, is that you?"



Grace froze at the sound of Rodney Carmichael's voice. "Hello, Mr. Carmichael," she said coldly.



At that moment, she could have killed Luanne for going out of town.



She'd only had the one session with Rodney that past Wednesday, but it had been enough to make her want to hire an investigator to find Luanne and bring her home.



The man gave her the creeps.



"Where were you today, Grace? You're not sick, are you? I could bring you some-"



"Didn't Lisa reschedule your appointment?"



"She did, but I was thinking we could-"



"Look, Mr. Carmichael, I don't see patients in my home. I'll see you at your appointment time. Okay?"



The line went dead.



"Grace?"



She jumped and screamed at Julian's voice behind her.



He stared at her with a curious look that would have been funny had she not been terrified.



"Are you all right?" he asked.



"Yeah, I'm sorry." She set the phone down. "It was just that patient I told you about. Rodney Carmichael. He weirds me out."



"Weirds?"



"Makes me nervous." For the first time, she was more than grateful for Julian's presence. Otherwise, she'd be headed over to Selena and Bill's to impose herself on their hospitality for the rest of the weekend.



"C'mon," she said, turning off the kitchen light. "Why don't we go upstairs, and I can start teaching you to read English?"



He shook his head. "You don't give up, do you?"



"Nope."



"All right," he said, falling in behind her. "I'll let you teach me, but only if you put on your red night-"



"No, no, no." She paused on the stairs and turned around to look at him. "I don't think so."



He reached up and brushed her hair from her shoulder. "Don't you know I need a Muse to inspire me to learn? And what better Muse than you in-"



She stopped his words by placing her fingers over his lips. "If I put that on, I seriously doubt you'll learn anything you don't already know."



He nipped her fingers with his teeth. "I promise to behave."



Knowing it was a very bad idea, she let him talk her into it.



"You better behave," she said over her shoulder as she continued up the stairs and to her bedroom.



Grace entered her large, walk-in closet that her father had turned into a small library years ago, and dug around the bookshelves until she found her ancient copy of Peter Pan.



Julian dug in her dresser until he found that wretched outfit.



They exchanged items in the center of the room. Grace ran to the bathroom and changed clothes, but as soon as she saw herself in the gauzy red nightie, she froze. Ugh! If Julian caught sight of her in this, he'd run screaming from the room.



Unable to bear the humiliation of seeing his disappointment in her body, she changed out of the nightie and into her modest pink dorm shirt, then wrapped herself in her thick, terry-cloth robe before returning to her room.



Julian shook his head at her. "Why are you wearing that?"



"Look, I'm not an idiot. I don't have the kind of body that makes men drool."



"What are you trying to tell me? You're a man?"



She frowned at his logic. "No."



"Then how do you know what men want to ogle?"



"Because they never do. Okay? Men don't drool over me the way women drool over you. Heck, I'm lucky if they even realize I'm female."



"Grace," he breathed, moving from the bed. He went to stand at the foot of it. "Come here," he commanded.



She obeyed.



He stood her directly in front of her full-length mirror. "Tell me what you see?" he asked.



"You."



He smiled at her reflection.



Leaning down, he rested his chin on her shoulder. "What do you see when you look at you?"



"Someone who needs to lose fifteen to twenty pounds and buy stock in Porcelana fade cream for my freckles."



He didn't look amused.



He reached his hands around her waist, to the front of the robe where her belt tied it closed.



"Let me tell you what I see." He all but purred in her ear as he placed his hands on the belt without opening it. "I see beautiful hair as dark as night. Soft and thick. You have the kind of hair that a man loves to feel cascading over his bare stomach. Hair a man wants to bury his face in so that he can smell you."



She shivered.



"You have the heart-shaped face of a mischievous imp with full, sensuous lips that beg for kisses. As for your freckles, they are beguiling. They add a youthful charm to your body that is uniquely you, and utterly irresistible."



It didn't sound so bad when he put it that way.



He tugged open her robe and grimaced at the sight of her pink dorm shirt.



He parted the robe wider.



"What have we here?" he breathed, his eyes devouring her.



Before she could think to protest, he pulled the robe from her shoulders and let it fall in a pool at her feet. He returned to rest his chin on her shoulder as his gaze captured hers in the mirror.



He lifted the hem of her dorm shirt.



"Julian," she said, catching his hand.



They locked gazes in the mirror. Grace froze, unable to move as his hot, tender look held her enthralled.



"I want to see you, Grace," he said in a tone that let her know he would not be denied.



Before she could gather her thoughts, he removed her shirt from her, then skimmed his hand over the bare skin of her stomach.



"Your breasts are not small," he whispered, straightening to tower over her. "They're the perfect size for a man's hand." To prove his point, he reached up and cupped them in both his hands.



"Julian," she half moaned, her body on fire. "Remember your promise."



"I'm behaving myself," he said, his voice hoarse.



Leaning her head back against his hard pecs, Grace breathlessly watched him in the mirror as he released her breasts and ran his hands over her ribs, down to her hips, then under the waistband of her panties.



"You have a beautiful body, Grace," he said as he brushed his hand over her mound.



For the first time in her life, she actually believed it. He nuzzled her neck as his hand played in the short, dark curls.



"Julian," she cried, knowing if she didn't stop him now, she would never be able to stop him later.



"Sh," he breathed in her ear. "I've got you."



And then he separated the tender folds of her body and touched her core.



Grace moaned as heat tore through her. Julian captured her lips with his own and kissed her deeply and fully.



Instinctively, she turned in his arms to taste him better.



He picked her up then, never leaving her lips as he carried her to the bed. Somehow, he even managed to lay her back and join her on the mattress, all the while maintaining his kiss.



The man was seriously talented.



And oh, her body was hot. Afire from his touch. His wickedly erotic smell. With the feeling of his body lying against hers. Grace trembled all over as he separated her thighs with his knees and placed his fully clothed body against her.



His weight was wonderful. His body hard and virile as he ground his lean hips against hers. Even through his jeans, she could feel his erection pressing against the center of her body. As if magnetized, her hips rose to meet his.



"That's it, Grace," he whispered against her lips as he continued to grind his swollen groin against her in a masterful way that told her she would already be climaxing if he were inside her. "Feel me touching you. Feel my desire for you and you alone. Don't fight it."



She moaned again as he left her lips and trailed hot, searing kisses down her throat, to her breasts which he suckled gently.



She was delirious from pleasure as she buried her hands in his soft, tawny locks.



He tormented her breast with his tongue, and was relentless in his tasting of her.



Julian's entire body trembled from the amount of force he was using to keep his clothes on his body. He wanted to be inside her so badly that it was slowly shredding his sanity.



With every thrust of his hips against hers, he wanted to cry out from the agony of unspent lust. It was the most bittersweet torture he had ever experienced.



Worse, he felt her hands roaming over his back before she slid them into his back pockets and squeezed him tightly.



He shuddered from it.



"Yes, oh yes," she murmured as he quickened his strokes.



Julian's head spun. He had to get inside her. And if he couldn't do it one way, then by all the temples in Athens, he would get in another way.



Tearing away from her, he moved lower, trailing his lips over her belly to her hip as he pulled her underwear from her.



Grace's entire body shook from his unyielding power. "Please," she murmured, unable to take any more.



He nudged her legs farther apart. Grace obliged. He placed his hands under her, then lifted her hips up to let her legs fall over his shoulders.



Her eyes flew wide the instant he took her into his mouth.



Burying her hands in his hair, Grace threw her head back and hissed in pleasure as his pulsating tongue stroked her intimately. Never had she felt anything like it. Over and over, in and out, he delved and licked and tormented, making her breathless. Weak.



Julian closed his eyes and growled low in his throat as he tasted her for the very first time. And he reveled in it. The sound of her murmured pleasure echoed in his ears. He could feel her body respond to every careful, sensual lick he delivered to her. Indeed, he felt the quivering in her thighs and buttocks against his cheeks and shoulders.



She writhed sensuously in response to him.



His breathing ragged, he wanted to show her exactly what she had been missing. When she left this room tonight, she would never again flinch from his touch.



Grace moaned as he moved his hand slightly and dipped his thumb inside her while he continued to tease her with his tongue.



"Julian!" she gasped as her body involuntarily shook and shivered.



He moved his thumb and tongue even faster, deeper. Swirling and swirling, delving and caressing. Her head swam at the feel of his whiskers gently scraping between her thighs, rubbing her between her legs.



And just when she thought she could take no more of it, her release came so fiercely that she threw her head back and screamed from the deep, cascading waves of pleasure that rippled through her.



And still he continued, driving her pleasure on until she climaxed again, hard on the heels of the first one.



When he did it to her a third time, she thought she might very well perish from it.



Weak and more than spent, she rolled her head back and forth against the pillow as he continued his relentless pace. "Please, Julian, please," she begged as her body continued to spasm from his touch. "I can't take any more."



Only then did he withdraw.



Her breathing ragged, she throbbed from the top of her head, all the way down to the very tips of her toes. She'd never in her life known such intense pleasure.



He kissed a slow path back up her body, before he buried his lips against her throat.



"Tell me the truth, Grace," he breathed in her ear. "Have you ever felt that before?"



"No," she whispered honestly, doubting few, if any, women had ever experienced anything like what he'd just done to her. "I had no idea."



His eyes hungry, he stared at her as if he still wanted to devour her.



Grace felt his erection against her hip and realized he hadn't released himself. He had kept his word to her.



Her heart hammering at the knowledge, she wanted to help him experience what she had. Or at least a close proximity of it.



Reaching down, she started to unbutton his pants.



He caught her hand, then moved it to his lips where he kissed her palm sweetly. "It's a nice thought, but don't bother."



"Julian," she said chidingly. "I know it gets really painful for men if they don't-"



"I can't," he insisted, interrupting her.



She frowned. "Can't what?"



"I can't orgasm."



Her jaw dropped at his words. Surely he wasn't serious? And yet his eyes were deadly earnest.



"It's part of the curse," he said. "I can give you pleasure, but if you touch me right now, you'll only make me hurt more."



Aching for him, she reached out and placed her hand against his cheek. "Then why did you do-"



"Because I wanted to."



She didn't believe it. Not for a minute. She dropped her hand away from him and looked away. "You had to, you mean. It's part of the curse, too, isn't it?"



He caught her chin in his hand and forced her to look up at him. "No. I'm fighting the curse, otherwise I'd be inside you right now."



"I don't understand."



"Neither do I," he said, his gaze searching hers as if she held the answer. "Just lie with me," he whispered. "Please."



Grace winced at the pain she heard behind that simple request. Her poor Julian. What had they done to him?



How could anyone do such a thing to someone like him?



He picked up the book from the bed and placed it in her hands. "Read to me."



She opened the book while Julian piled the pillows up against the headboard.



He lay back, then leaned her against his side. Without a word, he covered them with a blanket, and cradled her tenderly with his arm.



The smell of sandalwood filled her head as she started reading to him of Wendy and Peter Pan.



They lay like that for over an hour.



"I love the sound of your voice. The way you speak," he said as she paused to turn another page.



Grace smiled. "I have to say the same of you. You have the most killer accent I've ever heard."



He took the book from her hands and placed it on the nightstand. Grace looked up at him. Molten desire filled his eyes as he stared at her face with a hunger that stole her breath.



Then, to her amazement, he kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose.



He reached over and grabbed her remote, then dimmed the lights to their lowest setting. Grace didn't know what to say as he snuggled up against her back and just held her close.



He brushed her hair back from her face and laid his head above hers. "I love the way you smell," he whispered, his arms tightening around her.



"Thank you," she whispered.



She wasn't sure, but she thought he might be smiling at her.



Grace snuggled even closer to his warmth, but his jeans rubbed against her bare legs. "Are you comfortable in your clothes? Shouldn't you change?"



"No," he said quietly. "This way I know my spoon will stay away from your-"



"Don't you say it!" she said with a laugh. "No offense, your brother is disgusting."



"I knew I liked you for a reason."



Grace took the remote from his hand. "Good night, Julian."



"Good night, my sweet."



She switched off the light.



Instantly, she felt Julian tense around her, heard his breathing change into short, sharp intakes. He pulled away from her.



"Julian?"



He didn't respond.



Worried, she turned the lights back on to see him, leaning on his arms, braced and locked, to support his upper body. His forehead damp from perspiration, his eyes were wild and panicked as he struggled to breathe.



"Julian?"



He looked around the bedroom as if he had awakened from some terrifying nightmare. She watched as he lifted one hand and placed it against the wall above the headboard as if to assure himself it was real and not a hallucination.



Licking his lips, he rubbed his hand over his chest and swallowed hard.



It was then, she knew.



It was the darkness. That was why he had only dimmed the lights.



"I'm so sorry, Julian. I didn't think."



He didn't speak.



Grace pulled him into her arms, amazed at the way a man as strong as this one held on to her as if he couldn't let go. Julian laid his head against her breasts.



Clenching her teeth, she felt tears sting her eyes. And in that moment, she knew she could never let him go back into that book. Never.



Somehow, they would beat this curse. And when it was over, she hoped Julian got his own revenge against the ones responsible.